


And the Forest Began to Sing

by shakespeareishq



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Consentacles, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, yes that tag applies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 00:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17294204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespeareishq/pseuds/shakespeareishq
Summary: Adam wakes in the dream knowing his purpose as true as he knows his own name: He’s been brought to Cabeswater for the pleasure of the Greywaren.





	And the Forest Began to Sing

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this, also don't ask me when it's set bc *shrug* 
> 
> Thanks to Ray for the encouragement when I got stuck! 
> 
> Title from Röyksopp

Adam wakes in the dream knowing his purpose as true as he knows his own name: He’s been brought to Cabeswater for the pleasure of the Greywaren.  
  
He doesn’t mind this turn of events, after all it was almost his suggestion. Adam had been more than a little...unnerved to finally understand the depths of Cabeswater’s feeling towards its Greywaren, how much it _wanted_ . But then, Adam wanted too, so perhaps it wasn’t so strange. Cabeswater might even be feeding off Adam’s own attraction, he isn’t sure. Regardless, he’d agreed to this, to let Cabeswater use him thus, for Ronan’s--for their Greywaren’s--satisfaction, however he might need that in this moment.  
  
The Greywaren and the Magician were both teenage boys. It wasn’t hard to guess how Adam was going to be called to be of service.  
  
He feels Cabeswater take possession of him the moment he enters its borders proper. It’s different from the other times he’s let it happen outside of dreams. Then, he’d been overcome with visions and unaware of his surroundings. Now, it feels a little like the time he got hypnotized at the county fair, aware but indistinct, like he’d stuck his head under warm water but could still see the surface. The stage hypnotist had made him do several pointedly humiliating things and Adam had vowed to never do _that_ again, but all Cabeswater makes him feel is...safe. Comforted. More like lying in its soft grass, closing his eyes, and letting the perpetual-sunlight caress his face. Loved, as much as a sentient forest understood the term. If this had been anything else, Adam would be trying to claw his way back to freedom, but Cabeswater is as much his as he is its, and their joining in this way, Adam’s legs moving without practice because trees have never had much occasion to _walk_ before, feels right.

Feels...almost erotic in and of itself, though that might be Cabeswater’s eagerness at finally spotting Ronan rushing through their veins and down, down.

He’s in repose, lying under a tree with his hands behind his head, absently chewing a piece of grass, a prince in his domain. Adam feels Cabeswater’s reaction to their Greywaren’s harsh beauty like a blow, dragging them to their knees. Ronan’s eyes flutter open at the dull thud, widen a bit when he sees that it’s Adam, and further still when he realizes that no, it’s not. He says nothing, makes no move, waits to see what this strange not-Adam creature will do to him.  
  
They are held still by that gaze, suddenly unsure. Is Cabeswater shy? Adam finds that unbearably endearing. _I will be your hands. I will be your eyes,_ Adam reminds Cabeswater, encouraging. _Go on, go to him._

They crawl the rest of the way to Ronan’s side--Cabeswater finds it easier than walking--and kneel there next to him. Adam does not know which of them is resisting the urge to stroke his furrowed brow. Ronan keeps staring, waiting for the opening play in a game he doesn’t yet know if he’ll have to fight to win or not. They do not look away.

They are desperately in love with him.

“Salve, Greywaren,” they finally say. Their voice comes out through Adam’s mouth youthful and ancient all at once, a bit like Gansey’s does, sometimes.  
  
Ronan says nothing, and his eyebrows shoot up to match his eyes, the gesture reading on him not as surprised but as unimpressed. Cabeswater hesitates, and Adam has to reassure it. _Don’t back down yet. He knows us. Show him who we are._  
_  
_ Cabeswater chooses to heed Adam’s advice by producing a bunch of shimmering silver flowers from a nearby bush and using Adam to pick several to present to Ronan in a clumsy bunch, one large silver carnation surrounded by equally silver baby’s breath. Adam jolts a bit at the mimicry. It doesn’t per se surprise him that Cabeswater could look into his memories, but to use his shitty flowers as an attempt at wooing _Ronan_ feels inadequate. Makes him feel inadequate.

It’s Cabeswater’s turn to comfort Adam. He sees images of various rocks and plant life and tiny bodies of water flash at rapid pace before his eyes that he translates to mean reassurance, and he does trust Cabeswater so he relaxes his hold on control of his hand and lets the forest present the tiny fragile bouquet to their Greywaren.

Ronan blinks, now genuinely surprised. It’s not an opening play he was prepared to counter. He accepts the little bundle with extreme care, like he used to hold Chainsaw when she was a fledgling. His and Adam’s fingertips both come away dusted with silver at the exchange.

“What are you?” Ronan finally asks. He’s looking at them now curiously through the baby’s breath.

He doesn’t bother with Latin so Cabeswater attempts its halting English. “Us...are yours.” _We,_ Adam corrects. “We.”  
  
Ronan laughs. It’s only a little cruel, which for Ronan is positively giddy. “Mine? I didn’t dream you. I don’t actually know how you got here.”  
  
“We _are_ here.”

It seems to finally click for Ronan then, what Cabeswater means. He sits up onto his elbows, running his fingers through the grass at his side. They feel it like a caress. Their lips part on a sigh, and Ronan looks at them, quizzical, and does it again.

“Well I’ll be damned. It is you.” His eyes narrow. “Why do you look like him?”  
  
There’s the rub, isn’t it? The whole reason Cabeswater struck this particular deal with Adam in the first place. Adam helps the forest translate. “This form pleases you.” Adam and Ronan haven’t yet moved beyond furtive but ultimately chaste kissing, but Adam knows what Ronan feels like hard in his jeans at the feel of Adam against him. He knows what his body does to Ronan.

For his part, Ronan says nothing but goes a little pink. Maybe it’s sunburn, but Adam can’t imagine Cabeswater would let that happen to its precious Greywaren, which must mean that Ronan is blushing--an action Adam didn’t think was actually possible.

“And why do you care about taking a form that _pleases me_?”  
  
Cabeswater lets Adam know what it wants to say. Adam is tempted to translate it as ‘because we love you,’ but he knows Ronan would balk. Playing Pandarus for a magical forest and its Greywaren is harder than he’d first thought it was going to be. He eventually goes with “We desire to see you pleased.”  
  
Ronan manages impressed with his eyebrows at the word ‘desire’ when just a minute ago they’d done the exact opposite.

“Go on, then.”

It’s a challenge, like Ronan doesn’t think Cabeswater will really go through with it, like it’s possible none of this is really happening. Adam can tell this but Cabeswater can’t. After all, what does a magical forest need with shame? It certainly doesn’t show any when it takes their legs and straddles Ronan’s slim hips. Ronan falls back into the grass with a gasp. Cabeswater instantly summons thick moss to cushion the fall.

Ronan is striking and startled in the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, all blinking dark eyelashes and cheekbones, and Adam gets a burst of moss-rocks-sky-trees-water behind their eyes that he recognizes as Cabeswater’s own pleasure at seeing its Greywaren so undone. He feels a thrill that he cannot place as belonging to wholly himself or to Cabeswater but to _them_ as a oneness. Their edges are blurring and Adam begins to not just feel himself on top of Ronan but all around him as well, the moss under his head and the grass under his body and the tree protecting him from the sun. It’s transcendent, like nothing he can describe--like nothing _they_ can describe.  
  
“ _Greywaren_ ,” they breathe.  
  
Slowly, warily, Ronan bares his throat.  
  
It’s an invitation and they don’t hesitate in taking it, falling upon Ronan like a boy-and-forest starved. First kissing the vulnerable tender skin of his neck and then tasting the plush depths of his mouth. Adam can see streams-clearings-sunlight-birds-vines but also Ronan Ronan _Ronan_. They cradle the Greywaren’s head, gently, so so gently, in their hands as he gives in to the kiss, letting them delve and seek and plunder. Ronan’s mouth is like cool water after having been lost in a drought.

They just have to think about wanting Ronan’s tank top off and suddenly there are vines growing from the tree, snaking their way under Ronan’s clothes and pulling up until Ronan agrees to lift his arms. _Oh, that’s useful_. They can feel the vines’ tips like their own fingers as the vines roam warm bare skin. Ronan is apparently a bit ticklish and his laugh is a wild untamed thing. He looks embarrassed for having made the noise, however, turning his face away from them and his cheeks going pinker. They don’t want that--never that--so they gently coax him into facing them again and go back to kissing him, breathing soothing little nonsense noises into his mouth. “Shh, shh. ‘s ok.”

Cabeswater can feel arousal through Adam’s body and they find themselves growing increasingly uncomfortable in their jeans as they run human hands now over and over Ronan’s chest and stomach, playing in the dip of his navel, over his nipples. Their tongues dance in Ronan’s mouth, slick and wanting. If Ronan feels bad about Cabeswater using Adam to get Ronan off he doesn’t express it, only wanting more and more. Ronan’s slid one hand up the back of Adam’s shirt and the other down the back of Adam’s jeans, gripping his ass in a decadent handful that makes them moan, the sound obscured by Ronan’s lips.  

They finally break apart to catch ragged breaths. The cocoon of safety and intimacy they’d woven with their mouths finally bursts to spread its glorious wings down the rest of the Greywaren’s body. They kiss their way back down Ronan’s soft vulnerable neck to the harder planes of his chest, unfortunately having to let Ronan’s hand slip out of their jeans in the process. It takes up new residence next to its brother, now helping to get their shirt off to match Ronan. The material lands in a heap after he tosses it aside.

Were it just Adam, he’d probably be self conscious right about now. He’s never understood quite what Ronan sees in him, physically at least. He doesn’t think he’s unattractive per se, just...plain. And Ronan is so very far from plain in every aspect of his being that it doesn’t make sense for him to want Adam of all people. But Adam right now is a _them_ and Cabeswater is also so very far from plain. Adam can feel the magic crackling under his fingertips like static electricity and marvels that Ronan doesn’t seem to feel it too as they carefully map out each inch of skin, first with fingers, then with lips.

They lose themselves for a bit. Adam and Cabeswater somewhere in the vicinity of Ronan’s nipples and Ronan in burying his hands in Adam’s hair. Time seems to stretch like taffy, folding in on itself. Adam feels them repeating that first kiss several times over while simultaneously sucking red marks onto Ronan’s chest. At the same time he can taste something that he suspects is a different part of Ronan altogether. He chooses to give himself wholly over to it, to where Cabeswater is pushing them, further and further towards where Ronan is clearly hard and needy, hips occasionally grinding up seemingly without Ronan’s notice, but oh how they’ve noticed.

They meander their way down Ronan’s body, making a pit stop to suck and lick and probe their way into Ronan’s navel, which causes Ronan to make the most interesting noises so they keep at it for a bit. All the while they’re slowly, carefully, reaching up to unbutton Ronan’s jeans, mindful of the stark outline of his cock in them. Finally their kisses reach the top of Ronan’s dreadfully expensive underwear and they pull them down until they’re nosing in Ronan’s pubic hair, relishing the smell of him, animal where Cabeswater is all plant.

Ronan calls out like he’s been shot at the first touch of their chin to the base of Ronan’s cock. It’s their turn to grin up at him, wicked as they pull down Ronan’s underwear the rest of the way with their teeth, letting Ronan’s cock practically slap them in the face as it springs from its confines. Ronan’s eyes flutter closed, lower lip clamped between his teeth, eyelashes just a bit damp, flushed all over, and _oh_ they’ve never seen a sight more beautiful.

Ronan doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. They keep fluctuating between Adam’s shoulders and the grass at his sides. Adam can feel it like a grip on his hair and they moan aloud at the exquisite pain/pleasure of the touch. Still, they’re definitely about to suck Ronan off and Adam tells Cabeswater he wants Ronan’s hands away from their head the first time they try this. The vines come back with the thought, thicker now, snaking their way around Ronan’s wrists and pulling his hands up above his head, hooking themselves on a low branch that hadn’t been there seconds ago. Ronan’s eyes fly back open, up to where he’s bound and then down at Adam and Cabeswater who for their part try to plaster a beatific smile on, but the lust in their eyes betrays them. They want to please their Greywaren, and their Greywaren likes this no matter how much he tries to pretend he doesn’t. His cock twitches and a fat glob of precome leaks from the head to prove it.

Another thought and more vines reach down to flick at Ronan’s nipples, still puffy from how long they’d sucked on them, and a third finds its way between Ronan’s lips. Ronan sucks it greedily down and Adam begins to wonder if Cabeswater needed him for this at all. For that thought he gets as a reply a flock of birds bursting from the canopy and two smooth river rocks worn down by centuries that Adam can translate to mean that Adam is necessary right where he is. Cabeswater wanted to please Ronan with this body, because this body is what Ronan truly wants.

It’s a heady thought and Adam is overcome with a burst of courage. He gives the signal to Cabeswater to _finish what we started, go on._ They lean down and lick a stripe all the way from the base of Ronan’s cock to the head, lapping up the precome as they reach it. It’s not so bad as Adam had feared, salty and a little slippery, but not awful. But they knew that already, didn’t they? They can do this. It’s already happened even as they’re about to start.

They’re totally inexperienced, but Adam projects an image of the basic idea for Cabeswater’s benefit and they get to work. They lick all up and down Ronan’s cock, getting it nice and wet. They kiss the head like they’re eternally kissing Ronan, before and now and later still happening all at once. Ronan shouts and it’s deliciously muffled through the thick vine he’s sucking on, feeling like he’s sucking _Adam_ , and Adam can only ask Cabeswater to give as good as they’re getting.

There’s a fair bit of communication between Adam and Cabeswater once they discover where Adam’s gag reflex is, and Cabeswater has to learn that a little gagging is sexy but not a lot or Adam’s body is going to do some very _un_ sexy vomiting. It’s not used to human limitations but it learns quickly enough. Ronan bucks up the first time they take him fully in their mouth and Adam merely has to think before more vines are criss-crossing Ronan’s hips. Adam won’t lie, he’s getting off pretty hard on the power trip, Ronan helpless like this. 

He wonders-- _yes_ , another vine, slim and green, tender with youth, wraps itself around the base of Ronan’s cock where Adam’s mouth can’t manage, and then to his great surprise its twin wriggles into Adam’s jeans and starts massaging their cock with nearly expert precision. Does Cabeswater also want its Magician? _YES_ comes the reply, in English, no visuals attached. That’s...too big. Adam doesn’t have time to process that right now, he’ll think about it later. He instead decides that Cabeswater must have looked into his memories of jerking off, it’s so good at this, and does that make this masturbation technically? It doesn’t matter. It feels too good to matter, between the phantom sensation of Ronan’s mouth and the almost painfully real sensation of the vine, Adam’s afraid they’re going to come well before Ronan does.

Cabeswater backs down at Adam’s warning, slowing the vine’s undulations to something more manageable but still pleasurable. Good. Adam can let himself get swept up in their sucking, the way Ronan tastes, his muffled noises, his bound hands grabbing at nothing, their fingers tangling with the vine around Ronan’s cock. Both vines begin to secrete some slick substance that Adam’s not sure is actually found in nature, but he’s not complaining when he has a wet gripping channel to thrust into.

It’s both not long and forever before Ronan spits the vine out of his mouth, needing to breathe more than he can keep up with Adam. For their part, they’re enjoying the way Ronan whimpers every time they stick their tongue in his slit and the way he shudders every time the vine squeezes the base of his cock.

It keeps him from coming for a lot longer than Adam would’ve thought Ronan was going to hold out, but in the end their Greywaren _was_ a teenage boy. Cabeswater doesn’t understand the cultural hangup about swallowing come, so Adam is treated to the bizarre sensation of being able to taste Ronan’s come but not have a decision in whether it ended up on the ground or in his belly. Well, he probably would’ve tried to swallow anyways, judging by the amazed look on Ronan’s face, too shocked even to make noise as he comes desperately and silently right down their throat, hips straining against their bonds.

It’s only another couple of strokes of the vine in Adam’s jeans and he’s coming too, biting down on the vines over Ronan’s right hip lest he shout from the pleasure.

When Ronan can finally speak--once the vines have all retreated, Cabeswater with them, and it’s just the two of them, Ronan stroking Adam’s hair--all he manages is “holy shit.”

Adam concurs.

\--

Ronan wakes up at Monmouth with sticky boxer-briefs and desperately in need of a shower. He pads his way from his room to make a beeline towards the kitchen-bathroom-laundry, hoping to avoid Gansey and Noah in the process.

He fails.

“Why on earth are you covered in-- is that pollen?”

Ronan blinks down at himself to see that Gansey’s right, he’s entirely dusted in yellow and tracking it everywhere.

Gansey chooses that moment to sneeze dramatically.

Aw fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm rootingformephistopheles on tumblr if you want to come say hi!


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